Aidan lay there, his body still wracked with pain, too exhausted to stand, and he was surprised to feel a tongue on his face. He looked over to see White leaning over, lying down, too, and licking him.

Aidan reached out and hugged the dog, and the dog, he was surprised to see, leaned his head into his chest.

“I owe you my life,” Aidan said.

White looked back at him with eyes that seemed to respond: And you saved me, too.

Aidan knew that by doing what he had done, he had probably just forfeited his only chance at survival. Now here he lay, alone, on this cold night, hungry, beat up, a wounded wild dog beside him, the two of them without anyone to help them. Yet Aidan didn’t care. He had done the right thing, and nothing mattered more than that.

Aidan couldn’t give up. He couldn’t just lie there and die—and he couldn’t let White die, either. And if they didn’t start moving, he could feel, they would both soon stiffen up and freeze to death.

Aidan mustered a supreme effort and got himself unsteadily to his feet, clutching his ribs where the man had kicked him. He then helped White up, dragging him to his feet, too. The two of them stood there, facing the long, open road ahead of them. Aidan knew they would most likely die out here—but no matter what happened, he had saved this animal.

Aidan put one foot before the next, White limping beside them, and the two of them set off together—one small boy and one wounded dog, alone beneath the stars in the vast, black forest—taking their first steps on the impossibly long walk to Andros.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Theos circled high over Escalon, above the clouds, out of sight of the humans, soaring from one end to the other, taking in, with his magnificent vision and focus, the vista below. He flew into the sunset, flapping his great wings, moving across hills with each flap, covering more ground than these humans could in days, as he searched. Until he found what he was looking for, he would not rest.

This land of Escalon was so different than his home on the far side of the world, so much smaller, and devoid of the lava and ash, of the endless stretches of black rock that made up his homeland. It was also devoid of the omnipresent screeches of his fellow dragons. It was almost too quiet here—and it unnerved him. It reminded him of how alone he was, how far from home he was. But for this mission, he would venture to the ends of the earth.